


Cupid's Chokehold

by oneprotagonistshort



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Crush, magic-induced one-sided Sam/Cas, misdirected love arrows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneprotagonistshort/pseuds/oneprotagonistshort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is never a mistake. Hitting Sam Winchester with an arrow designed to romantically nudge Dean Winchester towards Castiel? That's a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupid's Chokehold

**Author's Note:**

> written for a super old writing prompt that suggested Cupid accidentally hitting the wrong person with an arrow. who better than team free will? also, yeah I totally stole the title from a Gym Class Heroes song that was popular seven years ago. what can I say, it fit nicely

It was a pretty normal day even by non-Winchester standards, which really should have been the first clue that shit was going to start getting weird. The Winchesters didn’t do normal; Dean found normalcy unsettling at best, and it straight up depressed Sam. They were packing their duffels, ready to move on to the next case, when Castiel popped in, startling them both as usual.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean said, after jumping like he always did and always denied, “do you need something or is scaring the shit out of us just fun for you? We do have a door, you know. One of these days we’re not going to think about what just popped up behind us and you’re gonna get shot.”

Cas tilted his head. “There’s no need for concern, Dean. Your bullets would have no effect on me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to waste them when all it’ll do is scare the locals and mess up your trenchcoat,” Dean huffed. “What do you want?”

Sam laughed to himself and tuned them out, letting them bicker while he got his stuff together and made sure he hadn’t left anything behind. Forgetting his toothpaste was a mistake he was only willing to make once; finding Tom’s of Maine on the road had been even harder than he’d anticipated.

A rustling that was similar enough to Castiel’s wings for him to notice but different enough to turn his head caught Sam’s attention, and he looked up at Dean and Cas to see what had made it. Dean was still bitching ( _“Listen, I know the whole ‘distressed’ look is in right now but if you want to make a fashion statement, go to Urban Outfitters, I’m not going to_ shoot _your jacket.”_ ) and Cas was still staring at him like he wasn’t making any sense but neither of them seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

He was about to dismiss it as oversensitive hunter reflexes when, without fully knowing why, he launched himself across the room with a few long strides and shoved himself between Dean and Cas. He’d braced himself for some sort of impact, but when none came, he cracked an eye open to find his brother and the angel staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You, uh… you need something, Sammy?” Dean sounded as confused as Sam felt, and Castiel was just head-tilting at him like that time Sam had tried to explain Disney movies.

Deciding that he’d probably imagined the whole thing, Sam forced a laugh. “Well, you know,” he said, aiming for nonchalant and mostly hitting the mark. “I just hate it when mommy and daddy fight. You guys will still love me after the divorce, right?”

Dean had enough sense to look embarrassed by the fact that he’d been having an argument with an angel who probably didn’t understand the context of half of what he’d been saying, and he turned back to his bag, zipping it up and muttering, “bitch” before throwing it over his shoulder and stalking out to the Impala. Castiel frowned at Sam like he didn’t totally believe him, but followed Dean out to the car anyway.

Sam gave the room one last once-over, ensuring that there weren’t any bullet casings or bloody towels or anything else that might cause housekeeping to call the cops, and pretended not to notice the way a small patch of skin under his left collarbone had started tingling.

\---

In the corner of the room, hidden from his brother and the Winchesters, Cupid watched them with increasing concern. _That’s weird,_ he thought. _I’ve never hit the wrong person like that before._

After the apocalypse that never was, Cupid had endured something of an existential crisis. Ensuring the correct combinations of bloodlines wasn’t important anymore, and there were no clandestine matches that needed to be made. Like many other celestial beings he’d encountered over the millennia, Cupid had been out of a job.

In the end, though, his love of love had won out and he’d taken up matchmaking again. It wasn’t any of the arranged affection he’d been known for in the past, but he almost liked it better that way. All he had to do was find a couple that already had the marks of love and give them a gentle shove in the right direction. It was simple, his art in its purest form, and it allowed him to use less potent arrows so he could save his diminished power for enjoying the fruits of his labor. When he’d come across the Winchesters and Castiel once again, he’d been overjoyed to discover that Dean and his brother were feeling the beginnings of amorous intention. He could help them on their road to true love, and would do so gladly.

This, however… this was unprecedented. Cupid wasn’t entirely sure what to do in a situation like this. He was almost tempted to reveal himself at once so they could sort it out together, but to do so would be disastrous. Dean and Castiel probably wouldn't be anywhere near ready to discuss their feelings in public, let alone have those feelings presented to them by a third party. In any case, Sam was involved now too, and nothing made Dean Winchester angrier than a perceived threat to his younger brother. Of course where Dean went, Castiel followed, and a vendetta led by Dean would be backed up by Castiel’s heavenly might. Perhaps it would be best if Cupid kept his mistake to himself and dealt with it privately.

Besides, Sam had been hit with a very mild arrow. It was possible that he wouldn’t be affected at all. Cupid decided to check back in a day or so and in the meantime he would inquire about his options.

\---

Sam closed the motel room door and stepped out into the parking lot. It seemed sunnier than it had when he’d made a breakfast run just an hour earlier and he felt himself smiling when he saw Castiel standing next to the Impala with one of the newspapers they’d picked up for the case in his hand.

“You know what, Cas?” he asked, not thinking about what he was going to say before actually saying it, “Why don’t you ride with us?” Sensing hesitancy from both Dean and Cas, he continued. “Come on, you can even ride shotgun. It’ll be fun!” The pleasant rush of anticipatory delight when Castiel nodded his reluctant agreement struck Sam as a little odd, but he folded himself into the back seat anyway, pretending he didn’t see Dean incredulously mouth the word, _“fun?!”_ at Castiel behind his back.

Dean situated himself behind the wheel as Castiel slid into the passenger’s seat, and said, “Jeez, Sammy. If you wanted to recreate Crossroads so bad all you had to do was say so.” He started the car but paused for a second, turning to give Sam a stern look. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, holding up a finger for emphasis, “If we’re doing this I am _not_ gonna be Britney Spears.” When he got blank stares instead of the assurance he’d apparently been looking for, Dean continued, “Crossroads? It’s a movie, there are these three chicks, they go on a road trip… no? Forget it.”

Dean put the car into drive, turning up the Zeppelin album that was in the tape deck as he pulled out of the parking lot. In the back of his mind, Sam could tell that something weird was happening to him but he quickly wrote it off as nothing. Dean started singing along with the music and Castiel’s resulting smile shoved any rational thought out of Sam’s mind.

Castiel had a nice smile. It totally wasn’t weird that it made him feel all warm and nice and safe. An angel with the power to smite cities was happy, and that made Sam happy. _Really_ happy, in fact. Sam could get behind that.

\---

By the time they’d gotten any real work done, it was 7pm and they were rolling up to a diner for a late dinner. Sam had spent the majority of their time in the car leaning forward in his seat so he wouldn’t miss a word of anything Castiel said, even though Castiel hadn’t actually talked all that much. He smelled good, though. Like, _weirdly_ good. Like rain and books and _happiness,_ which Sam hadn’t even realized was a smell. It was intoxicating, and Sam couldn’t get enough.

The waitress at the diner showed them to their booth, and Cas slid in to sit by the window. Sam nearly made a spectacle of himself but he managed to beat Dean to the spot next to him, and he ignored Dean’s annoyed glare in favor of opening the menu.

“You gonna order this time, Cas?” he asked, earning him twin stares from both his brother and Castiel. “What?” he asked. “I just thought Cas might like to try food, jeez.” It was true, Dean had been poking Cas about trying to fit in more with humans, but Sam had usually kept his mouth shut. Getting caught between Dean and Cas during one of their bitch fights was like getting stuck between an SUV and a minivan in a head-on collision; it didn’t matter which of the two got to you first because you’d be dead either way.

“I appreciate the thought, Sam,” said Cas, looking at Dean like he sometimes did when they were interviewing people on a case and he didn’t quite know the appropriate response. Sam grinned because Cas had said his name and god, it sounded gorgeous coming out of that mouth. Which was a weird thing to think when he considered it, but that didn’t make it any less true. Dean glowered at them both. “However, I don’t feel particularly inclined towards attempting something so... nuanced.”

Oh. Sam wasn’t sure why the rejection stung so sharply, but he felt his face fall. “That’s cool, Cas. Whatever you want,” he said, but it sounded despondent even to his own ears. He wondered vaguely what the hell was going on because Cas not wanting to eat was no different from any other day, he just couldn’t focus on how normal it was while he simultaneously tried to discern a deeper meaning. Cas had shut him down, did that mean that Cas didn’t like him? He probably thought Sam was stupid, that much was for sure, because why else would he offer food to an angel? Angels don’t eat. Stupid. 

He was so busy moping that he missed the desperate, trapped look that Cas shot at Dean and the baffled shrug that was Dean’s response. “Perhaps at another time?” Cas ventured, clearly going in blind. He sounded uncertain, but it was enough for Sam’s face to light up.

“Sounds good,” he beamed, and he returned to his menu. Maybe Cas just didn’t want to eat in front of Dean for some reason. Did that mean he wanted to eat just with Sam? Oh, god, had he just asked Sam out on a _date?_ Sam tried not to start hyperventilating, but Dean cleared his throat from across the table which effectively cut off that train of thought.

“So...” Dean looked pointedly between Sam and Cas. Sam wondered if Dean had noticed that there was something between them and was about to give his approval. “Sam, you gotta be real with me. Are you okay? You’re acting like the guy at the rave who took too much ecstasy.” 

Sam thought about it for a second. Yeah, it had been a weird day, but he felt great. It was like he was a kid in college again, crushing on the cute girl in the library, right down to the butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t necessarily expected that giddy pleasantness to be caused by _Cas_ of all people, but he couldn’t find a reason to be upset. “I feel fine, Dean,” he answered eventually. “I feel better than fine, I feel-”

“Sam,” Castiel’s gorgeous voice cut him off and Sam immediately turned to see what had prompted him to speak.

“Yeah Cas?” he asked, delighted to be addressed directly.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this,” Cas said, his voice uncharacteristically strained, “but your hand has been resting on my thigh for several minutes. I’m very uncomfortable.”

Somewhere in the swoop of gloom that accompanied the outright rejection, Sam realized what he’d been pushing to the back of his mind all day: something was very, very wrong. He paled and snatched his hand away from where he’d managed to put it without noticing (and Castiel had been generous with his use of the word “thigh,” the location of Sam’s hand had been verging on indecent) in an attempt to regain at least some of his dignity.

Dean, meanwhile, looked murderous. “Is there a reason you’re groping Cas in public, or have you finally gone off the deep end?”

Desperately, Sam looked between Dean and Cas for help. “I have no idea what the hell is going on here, but this isn’t me. I like you Cas, but I’ve never ‘candlelight dinner with strawberries and champagne’ liked you, and that’s what’s going on in my head right now.”

“That’s it,” Dean said, pushing himself out of the booth and ignoring the waitress who’d just arrived to take their order. “We’re out of here, this is messed up even for us and I might never eat again. We’re getting to the bottom of this.”

He stalked off towards the door, and Sam scrambled out of the booth to follow him with Cas not far behind. When they caught up, Dean was standing next to the Impala, frowning like he couldn’t tell if he should be pissed or disturbed. Sam had honestly been expecting to be mocked into next Tuesday, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. “You’re experiencing sudden affection?” Cas asked, speaking for the first time since the revelation that something wasn’t right and startling both Winchesters. “Sudden affection for me? Do you recall when it began?”

Sam thought back. He’d had no problems the night before when the three had gone to a local bar, and nothing unusual had happened after he’d left Dean and Cas to go get some sleep. He hadn’t noticed anything until... “The car, this morning,” he realized. “That’s when I started to notice that you smelled really good, and _oh,_ that’s really weird isn’t it.”

“It is unusual,” agreed Cas, “but I may know the cause. When you stepped between Dean and I this morning, was there a reason beyond derailing our argument?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it. It was like when we’re on a hunt and I have to shoot something before it can get to him, except nothing happened.”

Dean, who’d been torn between glaring at Sam and glaring at Cas, finally spoke up. “Oh, _something_ happened, and it’s making you perv on Cas and it’s creeping me out. There’s not a lot of weird that I haven’t seen, Sam, but this is a whole new level of fucked up. Cas, please tell me you can fix him.”

“I believe I can,” Cas said, “but we’ll need a few things first.”

\---

Back at the motel, they’d drawn the shades and arranged the summoning spell for Cupid on the table. One lit match and the whole thing went up in a puff of smoke, and by the time it cleared, the familiar face of a naked man was grinning at them from across the room.

“Hello friends!” Cupid beamed, “I’m so happy to see you. You could have just called, you know, there was no need for all this. I appreciate it though, it’s like a party!” 

“Cupid,” Castiel greeted him formally, thankfully stopping him in his tracks where he’d been about to start hugging everyone. “We have something of a situation. I believe Sam has been hit with one of your arrows, and I thought it would be prudent to notify you that some had been taken.”

“Ah,” sighed Cupid, his smile fading somewhat. “I didn’t lose any arrows, that was me who hit Sam.”

“ _What?!_ ” Dean and Sam exclaimed at the same time. Sam froze and his jaw dropped in horror that he’d been besotted with Cas intentionally, but Dean continued. “Don’t you deal with like, fated couples and mixing bloodlines and shit? I don’t think Cas and Sam are going to be popping out any future generations any time soon, not unless Sam has a biological reason for liking chick flicks as much as he does.”

Before Sam could retort that Dean had liked _The Notebook_ just as much as he had, Cupid started crying. Shit. “Those days are behind me, boys,” he sniffled. “I was just trying to help.”

“Help?” asked Sam. “What on earth would this help?”

Just like that, Cupid stopped crying. He seemed embarrassed instead, and explained, “The arrow wasn’t meant for you, Sam. These days I just find couples who are marked for love already but need to be encouraged to act on their feelings. I was aiming for Dean. I thought I could move things along between him and Castiel.”

A choked-off cough from Dean redirected Sam’s attention from where his mind had been pulling up one giant error message at the thought of his brother and Cas together, and suddenly it seemed that Dean was the one embarrassed by the whole slipup. “You’re uh, you’re a little late for that, man,” he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly and adamantly not looking at Sam.

“Late?” Cupid asked, clearly as confused by the admission as Sam was.

Castel, tactful as ever, explained. “Dean and I have been engaging in a relationship of a sexual and romantic nature for several weeks now. I’ve been guarding us from angelic interference as a precaution, but it appears I may have shielded us a bit too well.”

Delighted, Cupid clapped his hands together and said, “Ahead of schedule? That’s beautiful, well done. I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Yeah, it’s a mitzvah,” said Dean, clearly not happy that a naked man had just congratulated him on being totally gay for Cas. “So can you fix Sam?” When Cupid nodded and took a step towards Sam, Dean seemed to realize something. “Wait, hold on,” he said, his expression getting even stormier. “Is there a reason you didn’t fix him right away?”

He had a point. Sam nodded, “I’ve been living with a Hallmark store inside my head for _hours,_ you couldn’t have just knocked that out while you were already here?”

Cupid smiled fondly at both of them. “Dean, as your budding romance with Castiel has probably shown you, all good things take time. I’m sorry for the wait, Sam. I had to figure a few things out before I could come back to fix my mistake and I’d kind of hoped you guys wouldn’t notice.”

“Just get it out of me,” Sam forced the words out despite his jaw clenching so hard he was afraid he might crack a molar. “This is messed up, even for us. It feels wrong, and not even the good kind of wrong that makes you want to do it anyway.”

“Love is never wrong, Sam,” said Cupid, his eyes watering with the earnest meaning behind his words. “I promise you, I’ve been working to help you too, but somehow everyone keeps _dying-_ “

“Stop talking,” Sam cut him off. “Just stop it and fix this and if I’m lucky I’ll stop feeling dirty at some point between now and the end of time.”

Cupid stepped forward, placing his hand over Sam’s heart and mumbling a few words of Enochian. Sam could feel the magic draining out of him as the colors around him seemed to desaturate, and he breathed a sigh of relief. With one final bone-crushing hug, Cupid disappeared in a giggling flutter of wings.

\---

Castiel would explain later that Sam had been affected so strangely because the magic in the arrow had been catered to Dean and had reacted incorrectly in Sam’s body. He said he wasn’t entirely sure how Sam had known the arrow was headed for Dean, but seemed willing to accept that with the Winchesters, protecting each other was a sixth sense that defied logic.

Dean, to his credit, only made fun of Sam for the whole incident for about four months. It would have been closer to three except one night several weeks later, Dean found “Sam + Cas” doodled into a heart in one of their notebooks and refused to believe Sam’s protests that he’d done it ironically after the fact. Sam tried to insist that they burn it, but Dean cut it out and put it in his wallet.

Sam sometimes caught Dean looking at Cas like he was the best thing since the invention of pie, but he usually opted not to make any jokes. There were only so many times he could get smacked upside the head before realizing that some things were better off without outside interference.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first awkward fumbling into the world of Supernatural fic, hopefully I'll be able to nail it down with some more practice!


End file.
